


Better Things

by Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle)



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Episode Related, F/M, Getting Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-19
Updated: 2006-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:06:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27860485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jo_Lasalle/pseuds/Jo%20Lasalle
Summary: A getting-together story set during Lay Down Your Burdens.(Part of a number of stories re-uploaded for archival purposes. It's been over 15 years, and so any tagging or summaries are going to be extremely bare-bones! I tried to time a bulk upload so nobody got 10 separate notifications, but if I did accidentally spam people, my apologies!)
Relationships: Lee "Apollo" Adama/Laura Roslin
Kudos: 1





	Better Things

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the most classically feel-good getting-together story I wrote for these two. (While still within the context of the canon.)
> 
> Re-uploaded for archival purposes. It's been over 15 years, and so any tagging or summaries are going to be extremely bare-bones.

The representation part wasn't too bad when it came down to it. Lee hardly knew anyone; it had astonished him somewhat that the upper crust of their leftover society had changed this much in as little as three months. But he'd gone to get his lukewarm handshake from the president first thing, which took care of the worst of it, exchanged hellos with quorum members who still remembered him from another, more frantic time, and now that he'd found himself a not-too-drafty corner, his duty consisted more or less of standing around in his dress uniform and looking official as _Pegasus_ ' commander. He didn't mind; he was at home in the role.

"He owes me for this," Tigh muttered next to him, eyeing the party with an appropriate frown, but Lee didn't think his heart was in it. It was simply good form to complain about being ordered to attend in Adama's stead.

"He didn't want to come down?" Lee asked, though he already knew the answer. It was funny how well he understood his father these days. Months of boring orbit duty and not a breath of fresh air, and the planet still held no appeal.

Tigh shrugged. "He doesn't have much time for that guy." The look of disdain in Baltar's direction made it plain there was no disagreement between commander and XO on that one.

They'd celebrated this day before, but even with the constant Cylon threat hanging over their heads it had been different. He'd gone to enjoy himself, not do a job. He'd danced with Kara. The president had been worth celebrating. And there'd still been some decent drink, not this rough-tasting stuff that they had all over the colony and the remains of the fleet.

The band was still the same, but they had to try harder against the wind outside and the bad acoustics.

The tent was large and brimming with people, illuminated by floodlights from _Pegasus_ ' hangar deck. On one side the canvas was rolled up entirely; Lee wasn't sure whether the point was easy access or to show off the party to the masses, but he could guess. Wooden planks covered the ground in the middle, rough and uneven in places, but the people dancing didn't care, challenging the shabbiness with a frenzied dedication. It was a little impressive, even to a bystander.

He scanned the crowd again, the knots of people around the bar at the far side of the tent as well as the dancers, but it didn't look as if Kara had scored an invitation. He'd mentioned the festivities in his last short message, careful and offhand, saying lightly that he was hoping to see the two of them, and if it was a bit of a lie it was a well-intentioned one. But he hadn't heard back before he'd left, as erratic as their communications tended to be now, and maybe that was for the best.

His gaze fell on a former lieutenant of his, who grinned at him and waved across half the tent, a slim bottle in one hand and her other around her dancing partner. He raised his glass in greeting. She'd been one of Cain's navigations officers; for weeks after he'd taken over command she'd kept her mouth shut and her eyes downcast whenever he was in the vicinity.

"Didn't think you'd be showing up alone," Tigh said next to him. Lee was taken aback for a moment, unprepared for this, but while he searched for the right answer he realised that Tigh wasn't trying to rub his nose in the break-up, or even going for a cheap shot at Dee's promotion out of enlisted status. In his own curt way, he was making conversation, and given that he had to feel strange at Adama's uppity son now being his superior officer, he wasn't even too bad at it.

Eventually, Lee decided on a shrug, keeping it short. "You're a few weeks out of date with the gossip, I'm afraid."

Tigh took that with a raising of his eyebrows and a vague snort, and that was that.

Following Tigh's gaze, Lee saw Ellen hanging off the arm of a short guy in a warm-looking overall, who seemed enthralled by her conversation. She'd fluttered off after a bare minimum of eyelash-batting in Lee's direction, zeroing in on the presidential entourage as if on a mission. She was easily the best-dressed woman in the room, her bare arms and the low cut of the back of her dress defying the environmental conditions. Just the look of it made Lee glad he'd gone with the warm undershirt. But she fit in well with the determination to have a good time that Lee could sense in the rest of the partygoers; Tigh's relative cheer and sobriety while she was turning on the charm for random males was a bit of a mystery.

Then again, Lee had it on good authority that he knew nothing about relationships, so what did he know? Might as well just go with the peaceful flow of their 'boring corner', as Ellen had labelled it.

They stood and watched for a while, the music mellowing out to something still cheerful, but less frantic. At one point the wind turned and the corner behind them bulged out against the pegs, but someone was there right away, tightening the ropes. Lee was about to ask if Tigh wanted anything more from the bar when Tigh focused on something at the far end, a look of recognition passing over his face. "Well," he said, raising one eyebrow at Lee, "look who's here."

That could have meant just about anyone, and then things sort of slowed down because the last person he'd have expected from Tigh's reaction was Laura Roslin, wrapped up warm in an overcoat, surveying the room with her calm gaze.

Of course Baltar would invite her. And he'd wondered about it, if she'd come, how it would be like to meet her after... it had been a while. But then he'd spent well over an hour without seeing anyone familiar; he'd stopped looking--

She'd seen him, and stood still. Then she smiled a greeting at them both and started towards them, her hair vivid under the hard light, her coat dark and wide in the midst of all the less sensibly dressed guests. Lee thought it would be best not to be nervous.

He saw her shake someone's hand as she got to the edge of the dance floor, but then she disappeared behind a bulk of people heading for the bar. It took her a while to squeeze through, nobody taking care to make room for her.

If everything about the planet was an overwhelming reminder of the people's choice, the smallness of this, the moment she had to wait not to get bumped into by someone balancing three glasses at once, the way most people didn't even seem to know who she was, was a new kind of real that made something in him twist painfully.

She was dressed for comfort, a thick sweater showing above the collar of her coat, and she seemed not at all fazed by the lack of attention paid to her.

Her eyes were on Tigh when she reached them. "Colonel," she said. "The admiral is well, I hope?"

"Oh, he's fine," Tigh answered. "He hates these things."

For some reason, that made her smile, and it didn't become forced when she turned to Lee. "Good to see you, too." And held her hand out to him. They hadn't even spoken the last time they'd been in a room together. Now her grasp was warm and firm.

He nodded. "Likewise."

"Ellen is still scouting the territory, I see."

Lee froze at that, shocked that she'd comment so bluntly on Ellen's mating habits, and he did a double-take when Tigh merely grimaced in an undecided fashion. "Nothing but rocks and bad weather down here," he said gruffly, his frown fading as he looked over at Ellen with badly hidden fondness. "But she's determined." He shrugged in a what-can-you-do kind of way, and swirled his drink around.

"Your wife wants to move to the planet?" Lee asked, looking at the both of them in turn, not quite able to wrap his head around the exchange. Apparently the president had come a long way from being 'that woman'.

Tigh made a face, confirming.

"So now she's..."

"Gathering ammunition." Tigh shook his head. "Last time we were down here, I never heard the end of it." Then he looked at both Lee and the president as if he'd let them catch him at something, and he frowned. "Well, she's made friends here." He shrugged again, looking very much like the matter was settled, _or else_.

There probably was no understanding this marriage.

The president cast a considering glance at Ellen, catching Lee's eyes when she turned back; Lee was sure she could have said more about the people Ellen was cosying up to, but with a lenient look at Tigh, she chose to let it go.

"Tell her this is what passes for summer around here," she said easily, pulling her coat tighter for emphasis. "Maybe that'll help."

Tigh made a non-committal sound. Lee's eyes met hers, and without Tigh watching he saw a bit more caution, a hesitancy in the smile she gave him.

He didn't know what to say, up to the point where her smile almost seemed to falter. "Summer?" he asked eventually.

She looked at both him and Tigh in turn, trying to include them both, but it didn't feel evasive. "So we've been told. The good news is that it doesn't get a great deal colder, either."

Tigh gave her a dirty look. "Great."

The weather. They were talking about the weather. If he accepted the weirdness of her and Tigh having any sort of friendly exchange, it was almost funny.

They stood in silence for a while, the music providing a background that didn't make it too awkward. Lee wanted to ask her about being a teacher down here, tell her about keeping _Pegasus_ running with a skeleton crew; if he could have found a way to start, he felt it would even have been okay.

"Well," Tigh said eventually, turning away to place his glass on the fold-up table behind them. "I think it's time I find my wife for a dance." He gave both of them a quizzical once-over, but it was Laura he addressed with an impatient nod in Lee's direction. "You're going to have to ask him, though," he said, with a somewhat smug look that could have been mean, but that she took with amused surprise. "Or he'll just keep standing there."

Maybe he wasn't as sober as Lee had thought. He stared after Tigh, who sauntered off in Ellen's direction, and only after a moment met the president's eyes. Which were warm and somewhat... expectant.

There really was only one way to counter Tigh's remark. He held out his hand. "Madam--" And stopped. Gods. It was... hard, not saying that.

She brushed past his embarrassment with a graceful nod. "My pleasure," she said, not taking off her coat before she took one step forward so he could walk her to the edge of the wooden planks.

Lee found them a bit of space and guided her there with a hand on her waist. Just for a moment he felt tense, awaiting an awkwardness that never materialised, not even when she turned to put her hand on his shoulder and he promptly bumped a knee into hers.

"Sorry," he said, and she smiled and waved it off before taking his hand. It took him a moment to find the right steps, but eventually his feet got with it, and she didn't even have to lead that much.

"That was pretty unexpected," he admitted, concentrating on his next move and not on the easy way she held his hand; he wasn't sure himself if he meant the dance or Tigh acting strange.

One corner of her mouth turned up. Her hip shifted under his hand, initiating a turn. "He probably thinks we deserve each other."

Maybe they did. Weeks without a word, reasons that went without explanations, and now they were dancing. And the dancing was... nice. Not too fast, not awkwardly slow, and she danced well; of course she would. They moved well together.

Maybe he shouldn't go there.

"What did you do?" he asked, sticking to the subject of Tigh, going for a light tone. "He seems to like you a lot more now." And all right, that was... less than gentle phrasing; Lee rolled his eyes at himself, and he thought she was going to make a joke, but then the amusement on her face became locked into place.

"Things change," she said. There was a pause before she raised her shoulders. "Sometimes even for the better."

Yes, things changed; and there were changes he still didn't understand, changes that had left him angry and bewildered at one point. "Sometimes." But he squeezed her hand when he said it, and she nodded.

All of that seemed so long ago.

"Can you believe it's only been three months?" she asked as if she'd read his mind. "It used to be nothing." She sounded amazed. "Spring break to the summer holidays."

"I know," he said. "Time's all different now."

Somebody's elbow caught her in the side and she winced, and Lee's grip instinctively tightened.

"It's okay," she reassured him. "Crowded place."

She moved on smoothly even as he'd been thrown out of the rhythm, and pulled him back in. Measured steps, fitting their small pocket of room, and through her heavy overcoat his touch led her easily.

They were slower than the people around them, more careful, but it suited them both. He steered her away from a particularly hyperactive couple, and the thought crossed his mind that she looked entirely undefeated, showing up to Baltar's first big celebration as strong and graceful as ever, and despite everything it soothed something in him, made him smile when she took her hand off his shoulder to push strands of her hair out of her collar. "I'm glad you're well."

She returned her hand to the side of his arm, and despite his warm dress he thought he could feel each tip of her fingers. "I get more sleep," she said teasingly.

Lee saw the woman twirling towards them a second too late; Laura bumped into his chest hard, her arm caught between as she brought up her hands to catch herself. "Sorry," she said, stepping back, and Lee shook his head, glowering at the jerk who hadn't even noticed.

When he found her eyes again, she was smiling.

"Maybe it's getting a bit too crowded."

Lee was surprised to feel a pang of regret, but she was right; it was probably better to stop now than wait until it got spoiled, and he nodded. "Yeah, let's go." His hand remained on her back when he walked her to the side, and she stayed close when they'd found themselves a place to stand in the ring of spectators.

After a moment of standing and watching, he asked, "Would you like anything to drink?" Good thing there were fallbacks.

"I don't know." She was considering something, and then looked at him in question. "You haven't been down here much, have you?"

"No." He shook his head; he hadn't had much reason.

"Want to take a look around?"

Another unexpected proposal; only a few hours earlier it would have had him on edge, the thought of ambling along beside her with no distraction and no official purpose, but it couldn't be any worse than being prompted to dance by Tigh, so he gestured around, asking, "What about this?"

"See, that's another upside," she said, leaning forward as if entrusting him with a grave secret. "I can leave whenever I want."

So they did, with nobody paying them much attention.

It was colder once they'd left the shelter of the tent. Some folks had gone outside to smoke, keeping warm around a few strategically placed torches that gave off an irregular light, and there were a few onlookers behind the rope barrier some thirty meters away.

"Believe it or not, this really _is_ summer," she said, hiding her hands inside her pockets. But it wasn't that bad. Lee watched as her eyes flickered back and forth between him and the grey stretching out before them, the weird sky that showed no stars but was never quite black either, as she hunched her shoulders to underscore her words, and he had to smile.

"Back to the weather, are we?"

He'd caught her; there was something almost playful about her conceding smile. "All right," she said. "Pick a topic then." She took a step, her hands still in her pockets, but only started walking when he did. "I can do: New Caprica gossip, regrets of things past, the latest on how best to waterproof canvas seams, and why first-graders are devious wolves in sheep's skins. Can't do: state secrets, military strategy and inside tales from the government."

Lee laughed. "You could _never_ do military strategy."

They passed through the security check, Lee nodding absent-mindedly to a former crew member of _Galactica_ , who raised a steaming coffee mug to him and wished them a good night. "Now you're selling me short," she objected once they were outside, and stopped.

He dipped his head. "Hmm, maybe."

She met his unashamed scepticism with a very dignified expression. "I made good staff choices to compensate."

He bit his lip. "That you did." And there they stood again on the dirt road between the community tent and the larger settlement, rows of tents ahead of them, dark shapes interspersed with lanterns of varying brightness. There were people passing by, some more, some less interested in the party behind, but none of them was anyone Lee knew.

"So, which is it going to be?" she asked, still a little for show, but she didn't seem uncomfortable.

He nodded towards the settlement. "I thought you were going to give me the tour?"

A brief smile before she put on a face that announced serious business. "Certainly. Whenever you're ready, Commander Adama." She gestured invitingly, and it was only for a second that he blinked, hesitated, because that had been his title for three long months, and--

"What is it?"

"Nothing," he said, and she didn't believe him, and he shook his head at himself, resuming their slow pace. The ground was more rock than grass, Lee saw when they passed the first feeble lantern. It was a poor soil for this new colony of theirs. "It still sounds strange from you, that's all."

Her eyes were dark when he looked over; the admission didn't embarrass him. It was easy to fall back into step with her. "I like command," he said quietly. "And _Pegasus_... I mean, yes, it was hard at first; might as well have been a psych ward for all the paranoia and control crap they had going on." He didn't mention Cain by name; she didn't either. Long time ago. "But believe it or not, I've never understood my father and his mad love for that old bucket of his as much as I do now." With a self-conscious shake of his head he searched her eyes and found her pleased, happy for him. He smiled when he repeated, "But it sounds strange from you."

Their steps clanked on a wooden grid that covered what he suspected was a pool of mud when the 'summer' days were less dry. It seemed like a junction of some kind, but she led him straight on. "Captain Apollo?" she asked, in just as quiet a tone, and Lee drew in a breath against an odd strain on his chest. It was so familiar, the title and the warmth with which she said it. But it didn't fit him anymore.

Slowly, he shook his head, not wanting to deny the meaning it had had between the two of them.

She slipped her hand into the bend of his arm. "Lee."

Yes. It sounded better. It sounded right.

A group of three exited a tent a few feet ahead, then walked towards them; the street was wide enough that they could pass without any evasive manoeuvres, and the only thing that caught a curious look was his uniform.

"Things change," she repeated, with a bit of wonder, maybe a question in her voice.

He tucked his arm in closer, pressing her hand against his side. "Some things don't." And because he'd wanted her to know, after everything, he added, "You'd still have my vote."

It wasn't the reaction he'd expected, the way her face went blank, her dark hair obscuring her as she took pains to mind her steps. "Well," she said, and then she said nothing for a while, and Lee held his arm steady for her and didn't think about questionable results and late concessions.

"So... I already had the dance," she said then, giving him a sideways look in the light of the next lantern, her expression open again. "And I'll have the vote -- so far this is working out well for me."

Looking over, he put on a dutiful face. "Let me know if there's anything else." And maybe he flushed a little when she smirked at him, but she said nothing, and she didn't pull her hand away.

"This is something like High Street, by the way. Living quarters 13A to 25D are on this side, you can find all the latest fashions in that big tent over there, and refectories one and two are coming right up."

"Okay," he said, making a point of studying their surroundings.

"And if you get to the end of it, you can see _Colonial One_ on the top of that hill."

Right. "Not much point going there." He made it sound like she'd suggested something utterly ridiculous, and he caught a glimpse of her looking bashful, but pleased. "Do you miss it?" he asked on an impulse.

Her answer was hard, and it came without hesitation. "Do I miss someone competent being in charge? Yes."

She stopped and looked at him with no false shame, no apology, waiting. Softening, just a little, when he said, "So do I."

Gods. She was everything she'd ever been, only nearer.

A few steps further down she turned them left at a corner that Lee wouldn't have known was a corner, and the path was slightly narrower, making the walls of the tents seem steeper. Fewer torches, too, but he could still see enough in the perpetual twilight of New Caprica's night. He heard muted conversation on their right, but things were quiet; there probably were other parties, celebrating Colonial Day.

"And that's the school," she said then, pointing to a big square black shape between two other big square black shapes. The distances between the walls were a little wider than elsewhere. Maybe.

"Ah," he said, coming to a halt once more, looking around the narrow path.

She looked at him inquisitively.

"I love what you've done with the place," he said.

"I'm glad you think so. It is a masterstroke of design."

"Genius," he agreed. "Maybe I should give this relocation thing a little more thought."

And just like that her loose touch turned into a tight grip and she swerved around, facing him head-on. Her glare was hard. "No. You really shouldn't."

Thrown, Lee could only stare. "I'm sorry, I don't--"

"We're sitting ducks down here for the Cylons to come and finish us off," she said in a tight, commanding voice. "You're fine right where you are."

"Then... what are you doing down here?"

"I'm being useful. You're perfectly useful up there in orbit." Her grip on his arm was almost painful, and he regretted his flippant words when understanding dawned.

"All right," he said, shrugging uncertainly. "I wasn't really serious."

"Good," she said with force, and maybe it was the look on his face, or the loss of the earlier easiness, but something made her stern expression break into something softer, something wistful. "That's good," she said again, but warmer, almost vulnerable. How helpless she had to feel about the people and their foolish choices; he should have known that.

She relaxed her grip, her hand ending up on his chest, a gentle pat. "Because I may no longer be President of the Colonies, but you'd still better not piss me off."

"I wouldn't dream of it." He wanted it to be funny, but the moment wasn't right yet, the mood swing too sudden and stark.

With a deep breath, she shook her head. "I'm sorry," she said, her hair falling forward when she lowered her gaze. She seemed a little perplexed herself. "That was uncalled for."

He placed his hand over hers, and it wasn't even terribly bold; it felt natural, and a little satisfying when her fingers curled around his. "Never mind," he said, watching the edge of anger fade from her eyes as she shook back her hair, patted him again with her free hand. She looked a little guilty when she smiled, and then she raised herself up just that much, leaving a light kiss on his cheek.

She stayed there, so close he could feel the warmth of her skin, and he was motionless until her arms came around his neck, a gentle embrace that he could return without thinking, feeling it almost like a sigh of relief. It was easy, holding her like this, a little odd with her bulky clothes but comfortable, nothing rash about it, nothing imprudent at all if she stepped back now, if he lowered his arms and let her go.

He felt her palm on his shoulder blade, a tiny movement, fleeting. Her hair was very soft when he touched it, a careful brush at the back of her head that she turned into, sighing, and just then the cold and dark of this planet felt light with possibility.

"Revisiting the matter of things changing," he said, with just the slightest shift of his hand at the small of her back, a stroke of his fingers she might not even feel through the thick coat, and it was a little like take-off, soaring high and stealing his air. He'd held her before, had given her support and comfort on that hard, punishing chase, but he'd never have asked, never have _dared_ \--

She laughed, in a quiet way he couldn't hear so much as feel, a shiver that went straight under his skin. He breathed in the scent of her hair, bent closer to her ear. "How much out of line would I be if--"

He held his breath while she was still, until she exhaled with him, and her arms became heavier around his neck, slack with tension drained away.

She leaned back then, sliding her hands down to his chest, and looked at him. "I think you'd be fine," she said, roughness in her voice but her smile slow and certain.

"I'd be fine?" he asked back, teasing her now, holding on to the moment because he could, because he was nervous but in a heady way, a way that had nothing to do with doubt.

"Yes," she confirmed with a nod that would have been perfectly regal if not for the lingering smile around her eyes.

"Yes?"

"Yes."

And he waited just a bit longer, a few more seconds of anticipation, of taking in the brightness of her eyes, the way she held her breath when he brought his palm to her cheek, before he finally leaned in, and kissed her.

Cautious at first, a soft touch of lips and her hand stroking through his hair, and it was warm and sweet and she was smiling when he paused, exhaling slowly.

"That was nice," she said.

"Yeah."

There were steps behind them again; another couple, walking arm in arm, and Lee had a moment's impulse to back away from her, make this seem innocent, but her hand was still in his hair and she looked not the least bit disturbed, and then the two passed them with polite disregard and he felt stupid.

Her thumb traced the edge of his frown, and he shook his head silently.

"Okay?" she asked.

With thoughtful slowness he brushed strands of hair from her forehead, grazing her temple with his fingertips. "I think we can do more than okay."

This time her mouth opened under his, her tongue flicking against his lips and he let her in, slid his fingers into her hair, tilting her head, deepening the kiss. Nothing innocent here, for sure, and that coat was too damn heavy, too much damn _stuff_ between them when she was drawing him close like this. His arm was tight around her waist and she made a little sound, squirming, straining up on her toes and coming down on her heels again, and he slid his hand lower, pulled her in tighter, and she gasped.

He broke away, his own breath uneven. "That was nice, too," he said, a little shaken and a little amused.

"It was okay," she replied, more teasing, disentangling herself with a gentle nudge at his arms. "But I agree we can probably do better than that."

Not here, was what she meant, and his mouth was dry when he nodded. She linked her arm with his again, and he let her steer them back up the narrow alley. The silence was a little odd, but not uncomfortable.

They turned right on the main road -- High Street, he smiled to himself -- and then into another small passage.

"So you still think the Cylons will find us," he said in a low voice.

"Yes," she said simply. No anger now, just stating a fact. Settling that matter.

He nodded, and chose a lighter tone. "Not right now, though, I hope."

"No," she said without looking at him and slid her hand down his arm, interlacing their fingers, their palms tight together. "That would be a terrible nuisance."

"Yes," he said, clearing his throat. "Rude, even."

"Very rude," she agreed in a chiding voice, and he wanted to laugh and he wanted to kiss her breathless, and because there was no reason not to he pulled her around by her hand, bringing her in flush against his body.

So beautiful. She closed her eyes when he ran the back of his fingers up her neck, over the bit of skin she'd left exposed to the cold. It was just the wind that made it so hostile. Once inside, it would be warm enough.

The beating of his heart fast in his ears, he put their joined hands behind her back, pulling her closer. "I want..." His face was burning despite the chill, but he didn't let her go, just let his eyes drift to the side for a second, let her smile at him. "We're not going back to the party, right? It wasn't that much fun."

He was warmed by her laughter, low and joyful, and hot against his skin as she leaned into him, drawing one arm around his neck. He squeezed her hand harder, stroking the inside of her wrist with his thumb.

He felt her breath on his cheek as she trailed her fingers down his hairline, a teasing touch before she pressed an open-mouthed kiss underneath his ear. "I want you too."

It swept through him hot and fierce, and he gripped her a little harder, pulled her closer, and then she pushed back against him and it made him feel shaky with the rush.

But she leaned back, smile firmly in place. "Though if we weren't clear on that before now, you might not be as smart as I thought you were."

He was gaping long enough for her to wriggle out of his arms, and then she was laughing when he tried to reel her back in, any attempt at the proper outrage a lost cause because of all the things he had expected to do tonight, play-wrestling with Laura Roslin hadn't even been near the list.

But eventually, with his arm around her hips and his hand on the side of her face she slowed, slumping against him, and then he did kiss her, slow and deep and until she was breathless, and then some.

He didn't know who started them walking; probably her, because she knew the way. They didn't stop again.

He wouldn't have known the tent from any other, and he'd never given much thought to things like keys; she let go of his hand to untie the various knots securing the entry flap, efficient and precise. "The wind," she explained. "You can end up with a house full of dirt if you're not careful." She waved him inside, still all business so he stepped by without touching her, and instead of staring at her he chose to stare at the barely furnished room they'd stepped in. Orange light came from a portable light fastened to a hook in the ceiling, and something like a sock shelf hung off the back wall, containing what looked like kitchen utensils. There was bare ground under the three foldable chairs; the two sleeping chambers, one on each side, seemed to have a canvas floor.

When he turned back to her she was standing still, listening for something.

"Everything all right?"

Apparently satisfied, she nodded. "We're on our own." Of course. She'd be sharing.

"That's mine," she said in the same matter-of-fact tone, pointing to the compartment on the right. Then she was silent.

Lee walked over, pulling the long zipper down and around the bend, leaving the triangular entrance to fall open.

"Not the most practical design," she commented, stooping to step through, and he followed her.

"Close it?" he asked once he was inside. She was bending down to unlace her boots, a fairly harmless action, but the deliberation of it brought heat to his face.

"Please," she said with some amusement, and he did as told.

It was a narrow room -- if that was what you wanted to call it -- and she didn't seem to have many possessions. Most of them didn't anymore. Light fell in through the strip of fly screen at the top of the dividing wall, and there was another lantern sitting next to her bed, but she made no move to light it.

The bed. A proper one, not just a cot. And she'd seen his inquisitive glance, and it made his stomach flop a little.

"I'm not going to say anything more on 'okay'," she said, but the question was there, and he took a step towards her, far too warm by now in his winter get-up.

"That's fine."

At arms' length, he stopped, because she was doing something complicated with the front of her coat, but then at last that thing was off and that was better, even warmer, feeling her against him as he kissed her some more. His hand found its way under the rough sweater and under silkier fabric, and her skin was hot underneath, as hot as he felt in his too-tight uniform. Her hands were on his neck, her fingers grazing the edge of his collar and she must have had a similar idea, because she let him go reluctantly, and took a small step back.

"Okay, turn around now."

That... wasn't quite what he'd expected. "What?"

"Turn around," she repeated quite seriously, shooing him with one hand.

He couldn't help but stare. "Why?"

She hesitated, and then she seemed to square her shoulders. "I'm wearing long johns," she said, and sighed when he couldn't keep the disbelief off his face. "And they look like they're somebody's grandmother's, so if you would, please...?"

A slow grin spread over his face. "Right," he said, finally complying.

"Laugh all you want," she said over the sound of a zipper and the scrape of fabric on fabric. "It's only for your own good."

"Sure. The sight of you keeping warm in this hellhole would probably scar me for life." He pulled the dress belt over his head, unbuttoning his jacket with fingers that weren't quite steady, and after a second's thought he lost the undershirt as well. Undressing, for her; his skin prickled with the thought.

Something soft hit the canvas wall, and he heard the smile in her voice when she replied, "You don't trust my judgment?"

He took off his own boots, too, as well as his socks. "I don't think I can win if I answer that one." He'd been right, it was certainly warm enough.

His trousers made him hesitate, wonder how fast, how much, but then again she was taking off her clothes behind him and, right, not a good thought just now, and then he realised he wasn't hearing her move anymore.

"You're not going to need those," she said quietly. "At least I hope not." Sinking into him like a searing caress, her calm intent, and he turned around with his hands falling clammy and empty at his sides.

She'd lost the sweater, too, and was now standing there in her light silken blouse and not much else.

He remembered the blouse; she'd worn it the day of the coup, and during all that time in the brig. But it must have got damaged because she'd shortened the sleeves. Amazing it had lasted at all. It was a nice blouse. Not very practical in this climate, he assumed. But nice.

He kept focusing on it until she was right in front of him, and when he touched her again there was skin under his hands, her naked thighs, soft and smooth and nothing he'd ever thought he'd see, and he closed his eyes, dizzy with wanting her and wanting it to be right for her, and those beautiful legs of hers were nothing to the look in her eyes, desire that burned straight through him.

"Long johns, huh?" he asked roughly, raising goose bumps where he trailed his fingers over her skin, following the line of her panties.

Her hand was damp on his face, her thumb tracing his lower lip. "They are quite horrible." And she kissed him again, stifling his moan as she pushed against his erection, gasping when he gripped her harder, and he bent back her head and put his mouth to her neck and pressed her tight against him, so tight her feet nearly came off the ground, which was stupid and macho and she laughed a little but she also liked it, oh yes she did, hooking one leg around him and twisting against his hips and he ran his hand over blue silk and the side of her breast and to the waistband of her panties, practical cotton panties that he managed to pull down on the second try, and she shifted her hips to let him.

She exhaled slowly, and her eyes were wide, her arm around his neck taut and trembling, her movements slowing as he brought his fingers to the front of her thighs, and then up where she was wet and she gasped again, her hips rocking forward when he found the right spot, and he bit his lip he was so hard.

She set him a rhythm, her hands wandering distracted and erratic on his arms, his shoulders, and he loved feeling her like this, loved the twist of her hips and her breath coming faster and her breasts pressed against him when she sank forward, putting more of her weight on him. It was a bad angle standing up, and there was a nice bed right there, and maybe he should, he wanted to, it would be better-- and then she kissed him with a deep sigh, and took a shaky step back.

"Yeah, okay," he said, and she nodded, but before she could turn he'd pulled her back by the arm, slipping his tongue into her mouth as he reached for the front of her blouse.

He found the small buttons slippery, though, and in the end she swatted his hands away, taking care of it while he made quick work of his trousers and underpants.

The narrow bed required navigation, no frantic stumble; she sat down with a smooth motion, leaning back propped up on her elbows, and he only caught a tiny glimpse of tension in the hesitant way she arranged her legs, pulled up slightly but with room for him to kneel, and he stopped staring and went to her.

She looked him over with open appreciation, and something more, and he flushed but it pleased him, too; he sat down sideways on the edge of the bed, touching her ankle with a slow motion, and maybe it looked a little coy because she seemed to find that amusing.

He ran his palm up her leg to the bend of her knee, struck once more with the dizzying thought that he could. "You think I'm funny?" he asked, giving her his best scowl.

"Oh, no," she lied, shaking her head, her hair beautifully messed up around her, so he pulled her down flat with his hands under her knees and showed her funny, teasing her sides and making her giggle, and then her grin dissolved when he put his mouth to her breast and stroked one hand over her leg, down on the outside and up on the other, and in between the kisses he left on his way down her stomach he caught glances of her, watching him with her lips flushed and parted, turning him on so badly he had to struggle for his focus.

For a second he rested his chin on her hip, and he held her eyes as he slid one hand underneath her, tilting her towards him. He gave her a moment to anticipate, nipping the inside of her thigh with his teeth once, twice, seeing her stomach tighten, before he dipped his head there, tasting her wetness, adding to it, swirling his tongue around and over the place that made her arch her back, her thighs tensing under his hands.

But before he'd found a rhythm her hand was on his head, cupping the side of his face, nudging him back up, and she curled both her legs around his as she pulled him close to her, and that was fine too. Just kissing for a while, her hands on his chest and his arms and his stomach, which tickled once and made him twitch, and she grinned against his mouth.

Rhythm came, her skin under his and his sliding against her, and at some point he had to stop, propping himself up better, drawing in air.

He touched her face, traced her cheekbone, the corner of her mouth, and she turned her head, catching his thumb with her lips and his breath came out in a shudder. She drew up one knee, and her own breath hitched as he grazed the inside of her leg with the tips of his fingers, and he couldn't help his soft moan or the thrust against her thigh. Her hand on his hip, urging him on and her eyes never left his as she made room for him to kneel between her legs, when suddenly he heard steps and someone else's voice, conversational and perfectly audible through the canvas, asked if they were in the right lane, and someone else gave an answer that was a bit slurred but still understandable, and he froze.

"Tents," she said softly, as if he hadn't just been gobsmacked by that very fact. "You get used to it."

He could only stare at her, mortified, his mind racing back to sounds he'd made, sounds _she_ 'd made, sweat breaking out with the crazy urge of wanting to protect her, which was stupid when she was obviously quite fine.

She slid her fingers into his hair, her thumb caressing his cheek as if to soothe the shock away. The steps withdrew, the voices fading to murmurs and then nothing. The inside of her knee pressed against his hip, her foot hooking around his calf.

"It's all right," she said, her voice low but not a whisper. "Nobody cares." She pulled him down for a kiss, that smile still on her face, and he let himself be pulled despite the rigidity in his shoulders and the chill of embarrassment. "Nobody cares," she repeated with a tiny shake of her head that almost rubbed their noses together, and his lips tingled with another fleeting kiss, followed by one that was longer, one that turned deeper and wetter and hot, so hot he decided maybe he didn't care either, he could trust her on this, and when she took him in her hand he buried his mouth in the side of her neck, muffling a moan.

She felt so good, her hot skin under his mouth and the curve of her breast and the tightness where he was thrusting into her hand, and he almost didn't stop her, almost rode it to the end but then he felt her heel digging into his calf, the strain in her entire body, and got a grip. He held himself still, breathing in slowly, and after a moment she let him go, tilting his head up by his chin instead. A smile, weak with arousal, and a kiss that was messy and slow and held as he drew up her knee but broke when he slid inside her, smooth and easy and making her sigh, and he shut his eyes, holding on with a harshly controlled breath.

"I don't think--"

"Shh." Her eyes were glazed, and with a strain of her neck she licked at his lips and pushed upwards, and he moved and she met him and he thrust in deep, and she wrapped her legs around him and he dug his fingers into her thigh, his mouth open against her throat, and he lost himself a little as the pressure built and his pace got more frantic, his thrusts shorter and faster until he came, holding on to her hard as pleasure crashed over him.

He held himself still so he wouldn't crush her, shivering with release and the feel of her still around him for long moments, before he slowly sank down, remembering to move some of his weight to her side, pulling out, and then he took another moment or two to just... breathe. Take in air. He knew how to do that. Let her rub his shoulders, feel his body uncoil, her skin hot under him, the tremble of her still-tense body.

"Nice?" she asked with an audible grin, and he laughed, weak and light-headed and helpless, his face still in the sweaty bend of her neck.

"I'd say," he managed eventually, and when he'd caught his breath and forced some strength back into his muscles he brought his mouth to hers again, and she opened to him and sighed. She kissed him hard, and he tightened his fingers in her hair, sucking on her tongue before he found a hardened nipple. Balancing better now, he half-knelt over her, one of her legs under him but with room for his hand to go lower, and he felt her again, wet and swollen, her whole body shuddering at his touch. "Yes?" he asked quietly, pressing the heel of his hand against her, starting up a rhythm.

"Yes." Breathless, a throaty sound that made him aroused all over again, and then her fingers scraped along the muscles of his arm to his hand, pushing it down harder, her hips rising faster and he sped up the movement of his thumb, the slick slide of his fingers inside her and she was getting there, rocking towards it with her eyes closed and a helpless frown of concentration, and he bent lower, his lips on the side of her face, and she turned her head a little, her breath coming fast in his ear.

"Let me see you," he whispered, and it was just that bit more, a twist of his fingers and she tensed and shuddered, shaking and beautiful.

He eased her down slowly, withdrawing his hand when she twitched a bit, too sensitive now, and when her eyes searched for his he leaned in for another kiss.

"Nice," she murmured, and he smiled.

It took some shuffling until he was on his back and she could stretch out next to him. His skin was tingling under the warm weight of her arm.

He felt her chest rise and fall, the way she was wrapped around his side, and her eyes were open when he looked down, a small smile around her lips. Unexpected things, indeed. Maybe he should feel weird now, start worrying about complications. He didn't think he could be bothered.

He shifted his arm under her head just a bit so it wouldn't fall asleep, and rested his other hand on her hip. "Comfortable there?" he asked quietly, drawing a light circle around her hip bone.

"Don't make me move," she ordered, but it sounded mellow and idle, severely undermining the threat potential.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

With a slow lift of her arm, she flicked two fingers against his chest, peering up at him. "Don't fish."

He merely smiled, too lazy to come up with anything witty, and just shook his head. His bones were heavy, his muscles tired, and for a while he just held her as sleepiness crawled over him, their bodies slowly cooling down.

"Do you have blankets?"

A moment, and then she pushed herself up with a sigh, looking every bit as exhausted as he felt, and he almost pulled her down on top of him just to feel her like this, drained and loose-limbed from pleasure.

"You're really made of tough stuff, aren't you."

But she had blankets, and in the end they agreed that three was warm enough, and managed to get them both covered with the one that didn't itch and the other two on top of that.

She lay on her side, her head on her bent elbow; there was just room enough so they both could turn. "Just so you know," she said, the heel of her hand brushing the blanket as she reached out to poke against the canvas wall with her index finger. "That gets damp during the night."

Then she dropped her hand where it was and he took it, tangling his fingers with hers. "Nice," he said, "I get to sleep on the wet _side_."

"Poor thing," she replied, her voice low and affectionate, and her eyes were sleepy as she pulled their hands back under the covers. He rolled over enough to kiss her, lingering close, and she stroked his cheek with a quiet exhalation. "Okay?"

He tried, but he had to smile and then so did she, warm and intimate, and he'd never sell a joke now anyway, so he just pulled her to him and put the answer into his touch, and his kiss, and she seemed to find that adequate.


End file.
